We see through a glass darkly.
Sometimes that glass is very dark. Sometimes that glass is like those black Ray Ban wayfarer sunglasses that the Dan Akroyd and John Belushi wore in the Blues Brothers. Most days I can't see Jesus right in front of me. Too often I can't see Jesus in what Mother Theresa called, "all of His distressing disguises." My eyes are dimmed to the big blue Heaven that sometimes shows up on this small planet so often through the people we love the most.
I don't know about you, but I find my self feeling a little bound by my sin blackened blues sister suit and tie. I can still dance, but it constricts my moves. I find myself stumbling all over love. Some days I don't love anyone right. I'll love so much that it's shameful. Or too little. Or inappropriately. I hate it when that happens.
I have a friend that I love. I loved him a long time ago. Our lives are different now, and I have to love him different, but I trip over love when I talk to him, and embarass myself. I long to erase all my love mistakes, and love him with the pure light of Sweet Jesus, but I just keep getting in the way. So when I think of him, I long for our Heavenly home, when I won't be wearing shades, and everything is clear and love is no longer a messy affair. I wanna love you with a clean love, friend. But I'm bound by this black suit that I can't take off until I put on incorruptible.
One of my best girlfriends questioned her significance today, and I missed it. I should have seen that coming, but those dark glasses...and that black suit, and I'm not all of myself on this earth. I'm not all that I will be. I'm sorry girl, I'm trying, but know this: I'm feeling that deep blues you're singing today, and I'm adding my voice to your song.
I know a lot about the blues. The blues--it's your sad songs, but there's always hope in them. That's the best part of the blues, the hope. 'Cause, baby, there's always gonna be somebody whose blues looks bluer than yours, and when we raise our voices together, and the sound of the guitar wails, and we give God our lamentations, we just kinda know, in the way that God speaks to you way down inside, that everything is going to be alright. So we nod our heads together, and we feel the rhythms inside of us, and we laugh and sing too loudly. We know all the lyrics, and sing and sing, and we drink too much wine. We stand and shout, "Sang that song!" Everything's gonna be alright, baby. He promised us that.
But for now, love remains a complicated melody.
So take heart, blues brothers and sisters. One day our blues will be redeemed. One day we'll trade our black suit and ties, for white robes that have been washed in the blood of the sinless Singer whose Song is celebration.
I can't wait until that day.